


Playboy

by LydiaStJames



Series: Reunions [2]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Instigator Adam, M/M, SMUT ALERT, confused Ronan, pynchweek16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 21:50:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7818568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaStJames/pseuds/LydiaStJames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronan Lynch was a lot of things - an expert drinker, a connoisseur of cussing, an amateur cow wrangler - but he didn’t think he was a playboy. To be a playboy, he expected you needed to go on many dates. You had to drive an expensive car and wear fitted suits. To be good at wooing or flirting.</p>
<p>Ronan drove a nice car, he supposed. But that was about it.</p>
<p>So it was beyond him why Adam Parrish seemed convinced he was a playboy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playboy

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series. You don't need to read the first part to understand this, though I'd recommend it. You can read that [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7767790) if you'd like.
> 
> This is technically for PynchWeek, Day 8 - Free Choice! (Though it could also just be a continuation of Day 2.)

Ronan Lynch was a lot of things - an expert drinker, a connoisseur of cussing, an amateur cow wrangler - but he didn’t think he was a playboy. To be a playboy, he expected you needed to go on many dates. You had to drive an expensive car and wear fitted suits. To be good at wooing or flirting; to know the kind of restaurants that operated on candlelight and smelled of sex. 

 

Ronan drove a nice car, he supposed. But that was about it.

 

So it was beyond him why Adam Parrish seemed convinced he was a playboy. 

 

It had happened again - what was this, the third, maybe fourth time he’d hooked up with Adam Parrish? - and it went much like the rest of their encounters. Adam would stumble upon him, almost always at a time or place Ronan wouldn’t have dreamed of having an intimate encounter, and be merciless about his intentions. There was no courtship involved. One minute they’d be chatting, the next Adam had his hands on Ronan in particularly promiscuous places. He probably should have resisted Adam’s advances, true, but being that this was - quite literally - the only action Ronan ever got, he wasn’t in the position to be picky.

 

(And anyway, there were very few things about Adam Parrish to be picky.)

 

Which begged another solid argument in the Ronan-Lynch-Is-Not-A-Playboy argument.  _ He had never been with anyone besides Adam Parrish. _

 

It wasn’t that he was a loser. He was just... _ busy. _

 

And constantly surrounded by old people.

 

He should probably back up. 

 

Ronan and Adam went to high school together, though Ronan didn’t realize this until their junior year. How he never noticed Adam Parrish until then was a mystery, because after Cheng’s party, he noticed him  _ everywhere. _ Studying in the library, eating in the courtyard, discussing History class with Gansey at his locker. He was everywhere at Aglionby Academy, it seemed.

 

And all it took to notice him was making out for an hour on Cheng’s balcony. 

 

Ronan almost didn’t go to the party. It wasn’t long after his father died - he’d only been back at Aglionby for a couple months - and Gansey thought it would get his mind off Niall Lynch’s sudden and tragic death. Of course, Gansey was immediately pulled into conversation that Ronan had no interest in - something about stocks, something about politics, something about girls - which meant Ronan needed to find entertainment elsewhere. Cheng’s balcony was nice, mostly in that it had no one around and no one trying to beg cigarettes off him.

 

(Which was kind of crazy to think about, now that he was older. There was a point in his life that he  _ smoked. _ Ah, youth. Dorris would get a kick out of that story now.)

 

Then Adam Parrish stumbled out - long and lanky, but cute, real cute - and he didn’t ask for a cigarette. He also didn’t bother with small talk which was great. He just stood next to Ronan, arms folded over the railing, and enjoyed the evening with Ronan.

 

He wasn’t sure how they started making out, exactly, but he knew it was definitely Adam’s doing. Because Adam started looking at Ronan - really looking, like dragging his eyes down Ronan’s body and back up to his lips - and he definitely took the cigarette straight from Ronan’s mouth and tossed it off the balcony, because he vividly remembered saying  _ Not a fan of smoke? _ and Adam said something pretty cheesy like,  _ Not a fan of your mouth being preoccupied _ . (So there was one thing to complain about, he supposed: Adam Parrish was not great at pick up lines.)

 

Adam was probably a little buzzed. Ronan was  _ definitely _ a little buzzed. Adam pushed him back into the corner of the balcony, where it was dark and away from shitty Aglionby boys, and gave Ronan his first kiss. And second kiss. And third, and fourth, and fifth, and then he stopped counting and concentrated more on the way Adam sucked at his bottom lip, or how he knew the exact spot on Ronan’s lower back that made it impossible not to lean forward, to grind against him just a bit.

 

They stopped abruptly. Adam must have decided he had enough, because he pushed away from Ronan, patted him twice on the chest, and said, “Thanks. I needed that.”

 

It was exactly what Ronan had needed, too. It only got weird when, a few days later, they ran into each other in the halls. Adam recognized him - evident by the way his eyes widened and he skittered off in the opposite direction - but he refused to talk to Ronan. 

 

They had Chemistry together senior year, which made things a bit more awkward. It was impossible for Adam to pretend that Ronan didn’t exist when they had to work on labs together. By this point, he had resigned himself to the fling; maybe Adam wasn’t out, maybe he was experimenting, or maybe Ronan was a bad kisser. 

 

He had suspicions now, having learning that Adam thought him to be a playboy, that maybe Adam thought this was how Ronan rolled: make out with random partygoers, forget them the next day. 

 

They did not get along very well when they weren’t kissing, as it turned out. It was near the end of the school year - Ronan was so close to dropping out, but equally close to graduating - and they had to do a project together. The teacher let them use the lab, a fact he could only attribute to Adam’s phenomenal grades, and they were arguing about the assignment per usual.

 

Maybe it was partially Ronan’s fault. He  _ did _ keep looking at Adam’s mouth, but honestly, he was just shocked at all the shit Adam spewed. But Adam interpreted it differently, because one minute they were swapping insults, the next Adam had his hand on Ronan’s neck and they were kissing again.

 

In-between kissing him, Adam had muttered,  _ “I really hate you,” _ and Ronan had said,  _ “Sure seems like it, _ ” and for a moment he thought he blew it. Adam pulled away, eyes set in a stony glare, and he shoved Ronan out the door.

 

Turns out he just wanted to be outside, because he kept pushing Ronan down the halls, out to the back of the building, and up against the wall. What was he supposed to do? Adam was cute and knew how to put his lips to good use, and anyway, they were graduating soon so what was the big deal in making out again?

 

But then Adam’s hands had trailed lower, and then they were on Ronan’s belt, and then his lips were at Ronan’s ear and he asked, “Can I?”

 

Ronan could remember that moment vividly: the suspended seconds ticking by, Adam’s fingers skimming his jeans, his eyes searching Ronan’s face, the way he breathed  _ sorry, nevermind, I didn’t mean-- _ , the way Ronan had to push God out of his mind, because  _ why the hell was he thinking of God right now? _  and then he was kissing Adam again, nodding fervently, pleading  _ Yes _ .

 

He had thought maybe it would be a hand job; he got more than he bargained for. Not that he’d complain.

 

He  _ did _ say that Adam knew how to put his lips to good use.

 

This ended like it always did, though: Adam dashing away, Ronan confused at what just happened. It didn’t help that Adam acted like he didn’t exist the next day. Ronan wasn’t willing to do that again - to go back to being strangers - but he wasn’t going to push Adam out of the closet either. 

 

So he offered him an out. He’d seen Adam and Gansey fist bump before, and at the time it seemed the best thing to do.  _ It’s cool, man, _ he said with his fist.  _ I won’t tell. _

 

Adam looked horrified. It was probably not the right move. But, like he said,  _ he didn’t exactly have a lot of experience with this sort of thing. _

 

After that, they didn’t really cross paths. Adam went off to college, somewhere prestigious, probably, and Ronan moved back on the farm to help his mom out. Her health had been getting bad back then - lots of dizzy spells, overwhelming fatigue - and she couldn’t keep the place up. 

 

And then her health got worse. He had to hire a caregiver for Aurora, but Ronan didn’t trust anyone with her. They were too rough, too gentle; they neglected her, smothered her; they were always,  _ always _ fucking annoying.

 

So he decided to just do it. He got his training to be a Caregiver, signed up for some other basic classes, figured out how to help her with whatever she needed. 

 

It worked for awhile. He didn’t really have a life, but that was fine. Ronan barely survived losing his father, and he couldn’t lose his mother, too. Shit like dating didn’t really matter to him, so long as Aurora was functioning and happy.

 

And then it got a little too hard to keep taking care of her at the barns. It was just a little too far from the city limits, a little too long of a drive to buy supplies, a little too long for emergency care to come than he felt comfortable with. Plus, Aurora was lonely. She liked being around people, and though she loved him, she needed more in her life than Ronan and his constant hovering. She probably did it for his own good, too; maybe she thought Ronan would get a life if she went to a nursing home.

 

Leaving her in the nursing home was rough, though. It felt wrong. Nursing homes were for the elderly; his mother was barely fifty. It was depressing there, too. Someone had painted the walls a coral pink color, in an attempt to make it fun and lively, but it rang hollow. Paint did not disguise the crying, or the looks on the elderly’s faces when they didn’t get visitors, or the fact that it wasn’t  _ home. _

 

He actually ran into Adam again, right when all the shit went down. Her nursing home was in a deserted section of Henrietta, and after an unpleasant visit, Ronan found the first bar he could, ordered three shots of whisky, and placed them in front of him. 

 

Adam appeared on his right somewhere in-between shots two and three. He didn’t notice Ronan at first - seemed preoccupied with a crowd of men behind him, who were busy clapping him on the shoulder and celebrating some success - and Ronan made no move to get his attention. Adam asked the bartender for a few beers, leaned in lower to ask for a shot glass filled with just water, and hung his head as the bartender got to work.

 

Ronan watched as Adam took his “shot,” raising it in celebration with the other men. He thought it was extremely obvious that Adam wasn’t remotely buzzed, but the other men were too drunk to notice his water shots.

 

Ronan snorted under his breath.  _ This _ got Adam’s attention.

 

For a moment, Adam Parrish pretended to not know Ronan. His eyes glanced off him quickly, before settling back on his friends. Fifteen minutes later, though, Adam sat down next to Ronan and said, “Hey.”

 

“Congratulations are in order, I hear.” Ronan had given up on whisky. He needed to drive home sometime soon, and was nursing a water cup. “Not sure what for.”

 

“Graduated college. These are the guys I used to work with. They wanted to celebrate,” Adam explained. He looked incredibly uncomfortable. “I’m just in town to grab a few things from home.”

 

“Well, congrats.”

 

Adam’s fingers drummed on the counter. “So, how have you been?”

 

Ronan nodded to the empty shot glasses. “Amazing.”

 

“Bad day?”

 

He let his eyes answer that question. Adam nodded along, spinning an empty glass on its edge in a slow circle. They made a little more small talk -  _ Anything new to Henrietta? How’s Gansey? What are you going to do with your fancy degree? How you expect people to understand your accent in Seattle?  _ \- until the bar began to thin. At some point, Adam’s former coworkers were too drunk to realize he had abandoned them.

 

When Ronan felt safe to drive, he said,  _ “ _ Good luck at med school.”

 

Then, like clockwork, Adam made his move. It was more subtle than usual - less pressing Ronan up against a wall, for sure - but it was obvious nonetheless. 

 

“I’m leaving tomorrow morning, for Seattle,” Adam muttered. “But I’m staying at the hotel down the road. The Birdseye Inn?”

 

Ronan stared at him. “Just for the night?”

 

“Just for the night,” Adam confirmed. 

 

He weighed his options. Did he  _ really _ want to go down this road with Adam again? It wasn’t going to lead anywhere - it never had, and it definitely wouldn’t now. But he was feeling particularly shitty, and he knew Adam was good at what he did, and Jesus, there was only so much porn could do for you.

 

So Ronan let him take him to his room. Everything was much quieter this time, less rushed. It was Adam kissing up his throat and down his jaw. It was Adam carefully pulling off his shirt, turning Ronan around, and tracing his tattoo with his finger. It was lights off, no talking; they spoke by pressing their bodies into each other, fingers clenching at skin when it was  _ good, yes, like that,  _ exhaling ragged breaths when it was  _ please, more, faster. _

 

In the morning, Ronan slipped out before Adam woke. It wasn’t great, but it was better than a fist-bump.

 

It was good - really fucking good - and Ronan wanted more. He thought,  _ okay,  _ maybe his mother being in a home would be for the best. He could go out and date. Meet a nice guy. Start a family.

 

But Ronan didn’t even know how you met people anymore. He didn’t want to do it online - that was just weird - and he didn’t like talking to strangers. 

 

Then, when visiting his mom, he got into a conversation with one of the nurses. They were understaffed, terribly so, and needed help. Ronan had nothing better to do - the farm kept him busy in the early mornings, but they had sold the cows long ago - and he still had his training. He didn’t meant to work there. It was just going to be volunteer experience.

 

But Ronan kind of liked working there. He got to see his mom, got to know she was being cared for properly. And he liked some of the old people. Dorris had a dirty mouth and hit on him relentlessly, but she also talked shit with him about the nurses he hated. Glenn served in WW2 and had interesting stories, which Ronan collected to tell Gansey. Florence had dementia and thought he was her grandson, but he’d never known his grandparents and it was sort of nice, really.

 

At some point, Ronan realized it was a convenient excuse to avoid dating, too. When Gansey pestered him about his love life, he had it on the tip of his tongue: _ I’m busy, Dick. Plus, if I date someone, how will I meet Abigail’s grandson and get married and adopt two beautiful children?  _ _ She'd be devastated.  _

 

Aurora wasn’t very happy with Ronan, but there was little she could do.

 

So all this to say, when Ronan ran into Adam again, during their ten-year reunion, he did not think himself a playboy. When Adam ran his tongue up Ronan’s throat, he thought, _Okay, this again._ _Why not?_

 

They had fun, if he remembered correctly. (It  _ was _ a bit hazy. Tequila did that.) It was sloppy but sexy, more loud, more crass, and Ronan got to do things to Adam he never dreamed he’d get to do.  _ (He owed his thanks, also, to the free and never ending porn collection that the Internet offered. Turns out it was quite educational.) _

 

And then, of course, Adam tried to leave without saying goodbye. It was fair, really, but Ronan was suddenly very tired of this game. “Leaving so soon?”

 

“This was a mistake. I have to go.” Adam was fixing the buttons on his shirt; he missed one in his haste.

 

Ronan was disappointed. He had thought, maybe, now that Adam was done with school (eight years or some shit - whatever it took to be a doctor these days) he might not be running off somewhere. Ronan wanted to take him out for coffee. Or another beer. Or whatever. But apparently Adam was  _ not _ interested, because he was itching to go, ready to pretend the night never happened--

 

Then, with delight, his eyes lowered to Adam’s slacks. Well. At least  _ some _ part of Adam was happy to see him.

 

“You don’t seem that upset about it,” he drawled. 

 

Adam glared at him, petulant. “I’m not like you, Lynch, I don’t just do this sort of thing.”

 

And there it was. Once again, Adam Parrish seemed to think that Ronan was a player. Or at the very least, someone who got drunk, made out with a stranger, and fucked him against a cheap, motel bed. 

  
“And what makes you think I do?” Ronan asked. 

 

Adam didn’t have a good response. Typical. Ronan wondered if it was his look - maybe the shaved head, leather, and tattoo gave the wrong impression. Maybe it was his BMW. Maybe Adam had heard about his job through the grapevine and thought it sounded ridiculously sexy.

 

Either way, Ronan was tired. He had a bit of a hangover, his body was sore from last night, and Adam, once more, left him utterly confused. For someone who always seemed to instigate their shenanigans, Ronan felt oddly rejected by Adam. 

 

So he figured he’d take a shower. Jerk one off, because okay, seeing Adam with hickeys up his neck and pitching a tent in the middle of a trashed hotel room was a sight to see. And then he’d go home, rest his hangover, and once and for all, officially move on from Adam Fucking Parrish.

 

He didn’t remember inviting Adam into the shower with him. Yet, seconds later, there he was, pulling off his pants and glaring at Ronan like he was the scum of the earth.

 

“Who said you could join?” Ronan asked.

  
Adam stared at him, dumbfounded. “You literally just did.”

 

“Did I?”

 

Adam sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, cheeks turning a faint red. Abruptly, he began to button his shirt back up, muttering curses under his breath.

 

And then, suddenly, Ronan figured something out. Adam Parrish - despite all his flirting, his stupid pick-up lines, his hungry mouth - didn’t have a clue what he was doing. Or maybe he just got off on this; maybe Adam was playing out some sort of weird fantasy, where he was the innocent prince pulled into the mouth of the big, bad wolf. (Though, hey, there were parts of this fantasy that did come true last night, he supposed.)

 

Whatever the reason was, Ronan decided to let it go. To embrace the ride. (Perhaps literally.) 

 

“Parrish, seriously, just get the fuck in here.”

 

“No. I’m leaving.”

 

Ronan almost laughed. He was starting to understand Adam a bit more clearly, now. He recognized the look in his eyes - that look of hunger that usually preceded his pounce - and figured it was only a matter of time. Adam liked this game.

 

“ Nice seeing you, Lynch. It won’t happen again," Adam said.

 

“I’m sure.”

 

“It won’t.”

 

Yet Adam didn’t move. Ronan did laugh a little this time, though it was masked over the sound of the shower. Adam clearly wanted to come in - wanted to mess around a bit more, but was insistent on keeping up his image. Maybe he finally realized he was the one to make all this happen and was feeling embarrassed.

 

But he still didn’t  _ leave. _

 

So maybe Ronan was a bit of an asshole with his next move. In his defense, he  _ did _ plan to jerk off in the shower. Whether or not Adam joined didn’t really matter; Ronan shouldn’t have to stop just because Adam refused to leave.

 

As he slid his hand down his shaft, Ronan looked directly at Adam and said, “Door is that way.”

 

And then he waited.

 

He was laughing by the time Adam got in the shower. Adam hadn’t even bothered to take off his shirt - he just pressed into Ronan, biting at his lips, hands groping at his skin. Ronan finished him off first, feeling very generous, but also enjoying the way the water dripped over Adam’s lips as he shook and cursed and moaned.

 

When Ronan turned the shower off, he stripped Adam of his wet shirt, wrapped a towel around him, and pushed his hair away from his face. Adam looked dazed - a little too much action in twenty-four hours, perhaps.

 

Ronan clapped Adam’s cheek twice. “Well, Parrish. I’m sure I’ll see you again.”

 

To his credit, Adam didn’t deny it this time. He shut his eyes, exhaled loudly, and said, “Just give me your number already.”

 

Ronan grinned.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I basically wrote this entire thing because I thought, "Okay, what's the most chaste, un-playboy like occupation Ronan could have?" and then this happened.
> 
> I said I'd be done, but I could easily be convinced into a third part, as Adam still doesn't truly understand how little of a playboy Ronan is. Dammit.


End file.
